


Pulse

by penny



Category: Baccano!, Ergo Proxy - Fandom
Genre: Community: roads_diverged, Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-07-27
Updated: 2008-07-27
Packaged: 2017-10-04 09:55:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penny/pseuds/penny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Luck travels to some odd places while his body repairs itself each time he dies. This journey may be a warning of a possible future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pulse

**Author's Note:**

> For Roads Diverged, Meta - Crossover theme.

Another drive-by. At least death is quick this time. Luck's pretty sure the third bullet kills him. It's the last one he remembers, anyway.

Then all he knows is death. Each one takes him someplace new.

(Luck never asks Keith or Berga what they experience in these moments. He's afraid it's nothing, that he's the odd one, and he doesn't want his brothers to worry. They would. That's just how they are.)

_Can you feel it? The pulse of the awakening._

How can he feel his pulse when his heart is still in tatters? But there is one, faint at first, but growing stronger and stronger with each beat, and then his vision turns red. Russet, really. The color reminds him of Claire.

The landscape is barren. He can tell that much through the thick fog. Luck pulls his coat tighter around him. There's a chill here he wouldn't feel back home. Back home, he'd know other people were nearby. Out here? There's nothing.

He squints. No, not quite nothing. Through the fog, he can see a structure. A house? Two stories, a light at the door, feeble through the fog. Well, he might as well see how far he gets before his body stitches itself back together and drags him from this place.

(Luck never asks Firo what he experiences, either. Firo is too much like a little brother, and Luck's not sure he can handle _Firo_ worrying about him.)

He makes it to the building. The light is for the sign, City Lights Bookstore. Luck supposes he should find it odd, a bookstore out in the middle of nowhere. He ignores the ever-watchful part of himself that claims the other shapes he glimpsed through the fog are ruins.

The door barely squeaks on its hinges. Inside, the floor is littered with boxes and books, and the shelves are in disarray. It's almost like the last time he was in a bookstore, but there's no Firo, no car barreling around the corner, and probably no Poe on the nearest shelf. He steps forward.

The spines of the books are blank. Luck picks one at random. The cover is blank, too, pages empty. He frowns and selects another book. Then another. Another. They're all blank.

"Welcome to the City Lights Bookstore."

Luck turns. In his frustration, he hadn't noticed the old man approach. He's oddly dressed, at least by Luck's standards, but Luck as the distinct impression the man wishes to appear harmless. See, his smile -- which reaches his eyes, makes the corners crinkle -- says, I'm no threat. What damage can an old man in glasses and a sweater vest do, his clothes seem to ask.

"So the sign claims." Luck slides his fingers along the row of books.

"Are you lost?"

Luck shrugs.

"Everyone who comes here is lost."

"It's more like I'm waiting."

"Oh?" The man startles, like Luck's deviated from a script.

_Can you feel it? The pulse of the awakening._

"The pulse of the awakening," Luck murmurs. It's not a bad phrase for what it feels like to be pulled back to life.

"What's that?" The man's gaze is sharp.

Luck smiles. Oh, not so harmless are we? The old man's just given himself away. Luck just doesn't know what he's given away, but he'll do his best to find out before his body drags him back home.

(He could ask Maiza what he experiences during death. Maiza is not like a brother, and he's good at keeping secrets. This feels like the kind of thing he'd want to keep a secret, so Luck convinces himself he's respecting Maiza's privacy by not asking. He knows it's really cowardice on his part. He's afraid to ask.)

The man snaps his fingers, and the sound echoes too loudly in Luck's head. The bookstore around him...shifts, books leaping from the floor to arrange themselves on the shelves, the shelves themselves moving to create a different path to the door. Luck tries to move and finds that he's frozen in place.

"The future is like a closed book," the man mutters, and it seems like he's motioning the books in place. "And a closed book can't be read." He turns back to Luck and draws up short.

Luck smells blood, thick and cloying, and thinks of Claire. Claire coming back from hit after hit, cat-silent, through the window. "Chatty, isn't he?"

Luck's eyes widen. It's the only movement he can manage. He's never seen Claire in these moments. But that's definitely Claire's voice.

"Tch." Claire -- no, Vino -- circles around in front of him. Had Luck not known Vino's habits, he'd be frightened. Vino's drenched, the only clean spot a splash of pale skin around his left eye. Even his hair is covered, the bright red muted by the darker shade of drying blood. "I've told you, the world exists for my entertainment. You're a part of my world. Of course I'd be here."

The man adjusts his glasses and steps forward to inspect Vino. "Well, now. This is unexpected. You're not a proxy." He chuckles. "Though I think it's safe to say you are an agent of death."

Claire smiles. "Don't bother with the philosophy, old man. I know what the world is."

"Yes, yes, but your friend here..." the old man shrugs. "Well, perhaps he does not need my assistance. He did say he wasn't lost, but then one wonders why he found his way here. I serve one purpose."

The man snaps his fingers again, and Luck finds he can move again. "Vino." He nods, a professional nod, not one he'd give to Claire. That will come later, when Vino's retreated to wherever Claire stores him.

Vino's answering grin tells Luck he's caught the difference. "Mister Gandor. It's a shame you're more comfortable around books than movies. The pictures have so much more to offer." Vino glances back at the man. "Same lesson, though. What good are movies if there's nobody around to watch them?"

The man bows. "An audience is essential."

"What audience witnessed the destruction outside?" Luck can't help the question. Vino's appearance unsettled him. He can't help but think there's a warning to take back home.

"Ah, so you are lost." The man takes a long, hard look at Luck. "Just not in the same manner of those I serve. Well, now. This cannot be the future, because the future is like a closed book."

Luck can feel the beginnings of his body's pull. "And a closed book can't be read."

The man winks. "Exactly."

_Can you feel it? The pulse of the awakening._

His vision fades, first back to russet, then to black, and then he's back inside himself. His pulse is firm, steady, his breath even, and he can feel the rush of his blood. Then there are sounds, now too familiar, of people panicking.

"Hey." Fingers test the pulse at his neck. "Mister Gandor's still alive."

Luck groans for show and opens his eyes. Ah, good, it's Randy, one of the Martillos' men, and, more importantly, someone who understands.

Randy shrugs off his coat and drapes it around Luck's shoulders. "You live up to your name, Mister Gandor."

Luck smiles, fakes a wince as he pulls on Randy's coat. "I suppose so." He lets Randy help him up.

"Looks like the Ford shielded you," Randy says a little too loudly. The man may be slow, but he's not stupid. "Let's get you home."

"Yes."

"Firo found one of the gunmen," Randy says once they're around the corner. "He's taken him to your headquarters."

"Hmm."

"He's a Runorata. Looks like Vino missed one?"

"If he's a Runorata, he wasn't of high enough rank for Vino's attention." Luck shrugs. "Now he is, I suppose, but why deny Berga?"

Randy laughs and pats Luck's shoulder. "Everyone needs a little fun, eh, Mister Gandor?"

They stop at the next corner, the heart of Gandor territory. Headquarters is at the end of an alley halfway down the street. "I'm good from here, Randy. Thank you." he shrugs out of Randy's coat and hands it back to the man.

"Sure, Mister Gandor." Randy accepts his coat and saunters off whistling.

Luck raises a hand to his chest to feel his heartbeat, firm and steady. "The pulse of the awakening," he murmurs. Had that been the future? If so, how much time did he have to prevent...

Well, to prevent that kind of destruction, he'd need help. Luck straightened his hat and stepped out into the flow of pedestrian traffic. He'll have to have that talk with his brothers, and then with Maiza. Surely there's a way to deny that future an audience.


End file.
